


Just a Scratch

by Vector



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: M/M, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-16
Updated: 2009-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:32:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vector/pseuds/Vector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For prompts: "lack of consent - the blade on your skin is what matters to me" and "matching scars". Pre-series by quite a bit - they're probably mid-teens here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Scratch

Battle is a different sort of pleasure than what Stein's most used to, at once less controlled and more. The enemy's attacks force him to shift, block, strike when there's an opening, do what damage he can, retreat, and come again. It's exhilarating, and his blood beats heavily in his ears. This particular enemy is pretty far gone, with talons as long as its fingers, black hair beginning to grow into solid horns, and pure red eyes without pupils. It fights like a wild animal, and Stein can't tell where it's looking.

Spirit's form is solid in his hand. Stein can feel his determination, duty, and low-level, ever-present concern for him. Acknowledging it is enough to resonate with it. It's intriguing how easily he can become an impressive weapon in the right hands.

Stein grins wryly. He's getting distracted again. Focus, those talons are sharp. Dodge, lure him in, strike with the left, slip sideways and swing down - and it's over, the blade sliding smoothly through, the body dissolving entirely from around the bright red soul.

"Got it." Stein straightens, and Spirit transforms to grab the soul.

"Well, that was easy enough," he says after swallowing, then turns back to Stein. "Wait, what happened to your arm?"

Stein looks down. There's blood dripping down the side of his left hand. Curiously, he turns his arm around - and his forearm has a long gash in it, bleeding freely. He laughs. "It looks like it got me too." Now that he notices, it hurts.

"We need to get back and get that looked at," Spirit says, sounding worried.

"It's just a scratch, senpai. I'll take care of it," Stein responds absently, prodding the edge of the wound with a finger.

"Stein." Spirit says sternly enough to make him look up. Something he can't identify twists inside him at Spirit's expression.

"Fine, fine. We'll go to the infirmary." He shakes droplets of blood off his hand before turning to go.

***

Stein strips off the gauze and bandages from his arm as soon as he gets back to his room. The nurse who patched him up was new - he smirks as he remembers her asking him to look away - but she worked efficiently. There's only a thin red line left to see, the thin sutures she used almost invisible, and it only aches vaguely now. Of course, he hadn't even gotten to see clearly how deep the wound had been. He twists his wrist, watching the scar shift as his muscles flex. It doesn't break open. Stein is vaguely disappointed.

Of course, there were other advantages to stopping by the infirmary. He unloads his pockets before laying down on his bed to wait.

After less than an hour he sits back up, loads a syringe, and heads across the apartment. Spirit sleeps quickly and deeply enough that he doesn't stir when his door opens, and the light from the hall is enough to find a vein.

Spirit's eyes snap open. They're aimed at Stein, but they're unfocused, and Stein knows from experience that Spirit won't remember anything he sees in this moment. Still, his heart rate jumps until they fall closed again. It's just a stupid, learned feeling - being afraid of retaliation, even if it won't come. He'd do this even with Spirit fully awake if he could be certain there wouldn't be consequences.

With Spirit out, he turns the lights in the room on and retrieves the rest of his supplies. His new scalpels shine bright and sharp in the artificial light. Sometime he'd like to see how they look in sunlight.

He has to shift Spirit a bit in bed to have room to work. He's a lot heavier in human form than he is as a scythe, but the feeling is still familiar. He pulls the blankets further back so he can turn Spirit's left arm out. He taps a pen against his arm a few times, contemplating the angle. Then he marks a line. Spirit's fingers twitch a bit as he draws it.

He spends a few more moments getting prepared before he sets a blade to skin. He holds Spirit's left hand with his own to keep it in place as he presses the scalpel down. His breath catches as the skin splits. This is - the adrenaline charge of battle, feeling the opponent's flesh give under his blade, is good, but this is something different. Having complete control, watching the flesh under his blade, seeing the edges part cleanly for a moment before blood begins to well up. His hand is steady as he slowly slides the scalpel down the length of his mark.

When it's done he pulls back and watches for a moment as the blood flowing out of the cut drips down Spirit's arm, soaking into the towel he laid out for that purpose. Stein's heart beats quickly. He wants - he wants to cut deeper, slide the blade down through muscle and veins. He wants to see Spirit's eyes open wide with pain, hear his voice cry out. His hand twitches with how much he wants it.

Instead he turns and sets down his scalpel, the blood on the blade shining even more brightly than the metal. He picks up some gauze and begins cleaning up the wound. This is enough. This is all he needs to do.

He makes quick work of sewing up Spirit's cut. He uses the same thin sutures that were used on his own arm, and when he's done it's even cleaner-looking than his own. Just a scratch. He breathes slowly and deeply as he gathers everything to leave, tucks Spirit back in and turns off the light.

He's still high from it when he stores all the supplies away and climbs into his own bed. He ends up bringing himself off with his left hand, even though it's awkward and his wound stings at the motion. He still feels frustrated when he's done, but it's appropriate, somehow.

***

The next morning, Spirit is heating water on the stove when Stein walks out of his bedroom. He scratches absently at his arm while Stein sits down, then grimaces.

"Everything alright?" Stein asks. If he doesn't quite manage to keep his voice even, Spirit doesn't seem to notice.

"Fine. I must have caught myself on something," Spirit holds his hand up briefly before turning back.

"Clumsy as usual, senpai. You should be more careful." Stein can't help but laugh. "Now we match."

Spirit smiles at him hesitantly. "I guess we're a good pair, then?" The question is very apparent in his voice. "You should be more careful, too."

"Right." Stein is sure that his smile is not actually reassuring, but Spirit gives him a mug of coffee anyway. "Of course."


End file.
